Children of My Heart
by JoeyBear1424
Summary: Each step is more difficult than the last, her legs heavy as lead. Her gown once thin and gauzy has been ripped to shreds. Her skin previously smooth and ivory is now decorated by scratches, scrapes and lacerations. Her hair clings to her face with sweat and blood and as Arwen collapses it falls in her face, forming a curtain from the outside world.
1. Chapter 1

She can never remember a time that she has felt so heavy. Her arms, her legs, chest and shoulders all feel weighed down. Each step is more difficult than the last, her legs heavy as lead. Her gown once thin and gauzy has been ripped to shreds. Her skin previously smooth and ivory is now decorated by scratches, scrapes and lacerations. Her hair clings to her face with sweat and blood and as Arwen collapses it falls in her face, forming a curtain from the outside world. It does not deafen her to the cries of the orcs who are quickly closing in. Her thoughts are on her mother, her fingers clutching at the dirt beneath her hands.

Was this how her mother felt? Helpless as the orcs grew louder and louder? Scared as she realized there was no way to escape? Scream, a part of her shouts. How, another part asks louder. And who would even hear her all the way out here? Unlike her mother her brothers won't be searching for her, won't rescue her. They won't find her out here. The only option left to her is to close her eyes and waits as the warg's massive paws come nearer and nearer.

She's so very heavy, so weighed down that there's no point in attempting to run. She closes her eyes and prays that this will be quick: one swing of the club, one bite, one of anything just to end this game of cat and mouse. Arwen closes her eyes and allows the heaviness to finally weigh down completely. The last thing she hears is a mighty roar that echoes through the forest and seems to shake the trees as a massive creature bursts forth from the growth.

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><p>My joints have been killing me today and I haven't been able to write anything today except for this because the idea wouldn't die. I will add more tags as the story progresses and the company will make an appearance but that's all I can say without giving too much of the plot away :3<p>

I will tell you that there will be a genderbent character in the company. So if you don't like it then don't read.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing she's aware of a heavy weight on her chest, practically crushing it as she tries in vain to take a deep breath. Her vision is fuzzy, her arms too heavy to lift and rub at her eyes. From around her comes the sound of barks, accompanied by a strange almost guttural sort of language as a rag is placed on her forehead. And then there's nothing at all as she falls back into unconsciousness.

Arwen hears many things as she fades in and out of consciousness. She hears the sound of sheep. The sound of dogs. Mice scurrying around in the hay. She hears horses neighing and trotting around. And there are moments that she hears a bear: mighty and strong, his roar strong enough to shake the very foundation of wherever she's lying. Most of all she hears a deep, rumbling voice, mingling with high pitched giggles. It's nothing like the voice of her people: smooth, round with no edges or bumps. This voice is gruff, sharp edged and she can feel it down to the very marrow of her bones. It is the voice that she hears when she finally awakens.

The first thing she's aware of is a flurry of movement from her bedside; a series of growls and barks then the scurrying of paws. Arwen sits up slowly, her back screaming in protest. Her stomach and chest have been wrapped in gauze, her gown resting in the corner, tossed over a chair.

"You are awake." There's the voice. Arwen tugs the blankets up, looking towards the doorway where an enormous figure lumbers in the doorway.

"How long have I been unconscious? Where am I for that matter?"

"You've been fading in and out of consciousness for about a week now. And you are in my house." The figure steps through the doorway and Arwen's taken back by how utterly big he is. He's big all over. Impossibly tall with broad shoulders and a barrel chest along with thick arm he cuts an intimidating figure. His hair is dark brown, thick and messy. It comes down, lining the sides of his jaw. This man, the one with the rumbling voice that she feels to down to her very bones is the one who saved her. And now he's staring at her, his gaze not curious but not unkind as they flicker from her eyes to her ears.

"Who are you?" Her voice is a mere whisper as he pulls a chair up to the bed. Even sitting down he's enormous she notes.

"Beorn."

"Arwen Undómiel."

"Why were orcs after you?" This is the dreaded question. She can remember the argument as clear as day. Her father's orders to come back immediately. The haunted look in her mother's eyes. And the worried look in her brothers' eyes as she rode away.

"My mother, her name is Celebrían. She was captured by orcs and they—they tortured her. My older brothers rescued her and brought her home and my father healed her but she's not my mother anymore. Not the same mother at least."

"Before my mother was captured orcs were just a myth, a scary story that my brothers teased me with and told me as a child. When my mother returned though, it was suddenly something real. I could see a haunted look in her eyes, this look that was constantly bracing herself for the next attack." Arwen sighs bitterly at the memories of her mother who jumped and cringed at each and every little noise.

"I wanted revenge on them. So I set out to destroy the orcs that had tortured her. I did not intend on being attacked myself along the way." Beorn is silent, his expression thoughtful.

"Foul creatures' orcs. They've been slayed. I will go and draw you a bath." Beorn stands and begins to make his way out of the room.

"Thank you Beorn, for saving my life." Beorn doesn't say anything, merely nodding and continuing on his way out.

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><p>The sight of a dog, walking on its hind legs and staring at her is odd to say the least. Arwen blinks unsurely as the dog cocks its head, nudging the dress closer to her. Arwen lifts up her gown or rather what remains of it. The dress has been shredded and is now uneven, bits of dirt and leaves clinging to it. It's useless to wear the dress but she still gives the dog an unsure smile. The dog blinks at her then leans down, giving her hand a quick lick. And just like it entered the room it leaves on its hind legs.<p>

She scoots to the edge of the bed, cringing at the pain that shoots through her body. Her arms and hands have small cuts and scratches. Her knees are filthy and scraped. The gauze decorating her chest and middle could use a changing and her body aches with every little movement she makes. As Arwen slips the gown over her head she hisses through clenched teeth, her hand flying to her side. Looking down at the floor she feels her throat go dry. The bed seems to be made for a giant, her feet dangling above the floor. For a moment she feels like a child again, sitting up high on her parents' bed and unsure of how to get off when Beorn's rumbling voice fills the room.

"Would you like some help?" The man is already walking towards her.

"It would be appreciated." Arwen says. Beorn's hands seem to rival the size of the bed as they reach towards her. He picks her up as if she's made of porcelain, cradling her against his barrel chest. His house is quiet but it is not silent. The sounds from her moments of fading in and out of consciousness are more defined now: the mice scurrying and squeaking clear, the horses snorting and pawing mingling with the barks of the dogs. She looks back and forth as he carries her, doing her best not to fall from his arms. From the skin changers chest comes a deep rumble and it takes a moment for her to realize that he's laughing.

"You are nearly as bad as my children." Arwen's torn between feeling insulted and curious as his booming laughter continue. She settles for in between, craning her head to look up at the man.

"I've never seen a house like yours. My home is lovely but I dare say that is does not rival yours." Arwen says, staring up at the rafters over her head. Beorn hums and it once more sends vibrations throughout his chest as he glances down at her thoughtfully.

"Your home, you do not hail from Mirkwood." His tone holds a small hint of disgust as he says the word 'Mirkwood'.

"I hail from the Valley of Imladris, Rivendell. My family remains there….Well my mother will soon be departing for the Undying Lands."

"There were many of my kind once. We were the first to live in the mountains before the orcs came down from the north. My family was taken from me by the orcs." Beorn stops outside of a room.

"Will you be able to manage on your own?" Arwen nods, her mind whirling with thoughts of her mother, with this man's family. And her heart clenching with hatred towards orcs.

"I will have one of my animals bring you some bandages and some fresh clothes for when you are finished. After you finish you can meet my children." And once again Beorn turns and walks away.

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><p>Thank you so much to alexma; Knowing Grace; CrazyFanGirl18; Tommy14 and Zashire for the follows and favorites! They are greatly appreciated!<p>

I started this chapter and hated it. I picked it back up and I'm not 100% satisfied but I like it. Blehhh oh well.

Next chapter will hopefully be better. Anyways it's freezing rain and my back porch looks really bad. And I'm really, really hoping that I don't have to go to college tomorrow...I'm just done being an adult right now...

Note: Please remember there will be a genderbent character


	3. Chapter 3

Children. This strange man who owns dogs that walk on their hind legs lives in a house with furniture better suited to a giant has children. Arwen once more runs her hands over the too large tunic as she steps out of the bathroom. The fabric is rough and thick beneath her hands, the trousers much too large and even with the pant legs rolled up several times still threaten to drag on the floor. But they're in much better condition than her gown which has disappeared with one of the dogs. Arwen pauses in the doorway, unsure of where to go now. Her body still aches but the bandages have been changed and the hot water has soothed away most of the aches and pains. Her hair hangs long and dripping down her back, collecting a small puddle of water whenever she feels the tentative lick on her hand.

"Are you going to escort me every time?" Arwen asks the dog who noses at her hand and begins its way down the hallway. She follows after the dog that pauses every few steps, looking over its shoulder to make sure that Arwen is still following. The house seems to just have become more active during her time in the bath. The hay rustles louder as the mice scurry faster, the ponies whinny and snort demandingly and it seems all the animals are making their way towards the kitchen.

Just like the rest of the house the kitchen has been created to suit a giant. But there among the enormous furniture are small chairs, tiny plates and cups. She notices in one corner there seems to be a basketful of toys. The heavy, sweet smell of honey and mead hangs in the air. Thick as the scent is though it's cut in half by the giggles coming from the head of the table, where Beorn sits. He sits in a high back dining chair, a smile on his face almost hiding beneath the thick hair covering his face. Covering his shoulders, arms, legs and even clinging to his head are children.

Straddling his shoulders is a dark haired little boy with sharp features. His eyes are a bright icy blue, his small arms over his chest as he scowls down at the others. Two long braids frame his face but do nothing to soften his features. A golden haired child beams as he tugs on one of the braids, giggling as the child swats at his hand.

"Stop it Frerin!" The dark haired boy hisses, scowling down at the golden haired child who balances himself on Beorn's arm. Beorn reaches up and with his massive hand gently maneuvers the golden haired child's hand away from his hair.

"They have been waiting to meet you." At his words the children stop, their heads snapping towards the doorway. The dark haired child's glare intensifies as he stares at Arwen, his arms crossing tighter over his chest. The other children don't seem to notice as they all scramble off Beorn's lap. They hide behind the chair and Beorn's legs, clutching his legs. There's a flurry of whispers and elbows nudging as the children all peek around each other to sneak looks at Arwen.

Hues of gold, brown, black and even red all bob and weave as they attempt to look from behind the chair without leaving its safety. One child even wears a hat that Arwen wonders how they're not buried under, the flaps bouncing with each turn of their head. Their hair is decorated with braids, clasped at the end with beads all except for one she notices.

The child that breaks the silence is a chubby, round one that tumbles out from behind the chair after a particularly hard elbow to the back. Everything about them is pudgy she notes: fingers, cheeks, legs and even the tears now rolling down their cheeks as they attempt to sit up. Like a turtle stuck on its back the child rolls back and forth, tears rolling down its cheeks as the others begin arguing from behind their protective barrier. The coo that leaves her throat is soft but it silences the room as she crosses the room. Arwen sinks onto the floor, slipping her hands beneath the child's arms and lifting them into her lap.

"She picked up Bombur!" A voice hisses from among the pile of children.

"Only adad can pick him up!" Another one declares. Arwen stares at the child in her arms, Bombur who still cries. He stares up at her with wide, anxious eyes as she rubs a hand over the top of his head, pushing back his orange hair.

"There now, it's okay little one." Arwen gives him a smile and Bombur sniffles, leaning against her chest. From behind the chair creeps another child and then another, both of them watching as Bombur gets his back rubbed by Arwen.

"Me too!" A dark haired child with wild, dark eyes exclaims, running and flopping down into her lap. Arwen hisses through clenched teeth at the sudden jarring of her ribs, biting her lower lip as the child sits up.

"Kee, you broke her!" The other child cries, their eyes wide with fear.

"I didn't mean to Fee! Wasn't my fault…" The dark haired child, Kee brings his hands up to her cheeks, stroking them. His hands are sticky and have pieces of bread stuck to them she notes. But there's something endearing about it rather than disgusting especially when he leans forward, pressing a wet, loud kiss to her cheek.

"I'm sorry." Arwen smiles, watching with delight as the little one's eyes light up.

"It is all right little one. I know it was an accident." He turns around with almost triumphant smile on his face as he gestures towards the others.

"She said it's okay! _And_ her voice is pretty!" This is all the prompting the others need to abandon the barrier and come gather around Arwen. She finds children clambering onto her lap, their elbows jabbing at each other's stomach in an attempt to find a place on her legs.

Beorn rises from his spot at the table, the dark haired child still on his shoulders as he scowls down at Arwen. As he stands up the children cease their climbing; their eyes turning towards him.

"Her injuries have not healed yet cubs. Don't climb on her like that." His tone is firm but gentle as he bends down, scooping them up. The children all protest and whine from his arms but allow him to set them in their chairs. The animals make their rounds as the children continue their chatter, nosing plates of food towards the children. Beorn supervises it all with a smile, nodding his head each time one of the children pauses to pat an animal on the head or allow them to lick their cheek.

"They have all been waiting for you to awaken since they found out I brought you here to heal." Beorn confesses, his eyes scanning over the children. Some of them ignore their food in favor of staring openly at Arwen, eyes wide and mouths gaping.

Dís stares at her beardless cheeks with wonder, rubbing at her own cheeks thoughtfully. Her hands wander from her cheeks to her long, dark hair. Some her raven hair hangs in long, smooth braids the others in uneven, clumsy braids. Beside her Frerin happily munches on his bread and honey, chunks of food ending up in his golden hair. Fili rubs his ears then stares at Arwen's, eyes narrowed. Beside him Kili stares in wide eyed wonder, his mouth hanging open each time Arwen offers him a smile. Thorin is the only one to not smile, not stare in wonder but to scowl and glare, his eyes on his plate.

Balin keeps throwing curious glances between Beorn and Arwen; stopping, only when he realizes that his brother has put vegetables onto his plate. The child is so small, the biggest thing on him, his nose. His brother Dwalin's Mohawk threatens to knock him over as he swivels his head to follow whatever his brother's looking at.

Óin doesn't react to all the noise like the other children she notices. His reactions come after it's happened, his head swiveling around in an attempt to search for whatever everyone is laughing at or staring at. His brother's thick red hair is not hard to miss nor is the way he pats his brother's head each time the child looks upset about missing something.

Dori looks torn between throwing Arwen fearful looks and fussing over his little brothers so he settles for in between. Nori bats away his older brother's hand each time he comes towards him with a napkin, smearing honey on his cheeks. Ori's hair is done in a bowl cut, his cardigan much too big on him and hanging off his shoulder. He attempts to eat the way Dori insists but whenever the older ones are not looking he will stuff food into his mouth, cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk.

Bifur's quiet and spaces out, his gaze far away as he chews or stares at Arwen. Decorating his forehead is a long, pale white scar. When he speaks it's in a rough, guttural language or with his hands flying through signs. Bofur is the only other girl besides Dís, her hat and dress filthy with dirt and other stains. On her face is a wide, bright smile though as she eats. For every bite she takes some of her food moves to Bombur's plate. If Bombur notices his sister putting food onto his plate he doesn't notice, happily eating whatever is put onto his plate.

The one that Arwen cannot look away from though is the sandy haired child with the pointed ears and furry feet. She tries at first to reason with herself that there's not a possibility this is Belladonna Took's son. Then she hears Fili call for Bilbo to 'pay attention' and the sandy haired child's head jerks up from his plate. Arwen looks Beorn who continues to smile at his children.

"I knew his mother." Arwen says softly. The children don't hear them over the sounds of chewing and talking. Beorn's eyes flicker from Bilbo to her, his hands twitching ever so slightly as he stares at the young child.

"I do not know what to tell them when they ask of their mothers. I believe the older ones, Thorin, Balin, Glóin and Bofur have some idea that their mothers are gone. They often ask me of my wife."

"And what do you tell them?"

"That she is waiting for me, for the day we take our home back from the creatures that stole it from us. And until that day, we will have to be separated."

"Adad," Bofur crows from the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She slips down from her chair, running towards the two of them. She balances herself on the tops of Beorn's feet, hands on her hips.

"Is it story time yet?" Beorn smiles as the other children go quiet, eyes wide with patience.

"Bath first and then story time." With that all the children scramble down from the table, short legs racing for the bathrooms.

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><p>Thank you so much to SakuraDragomir and Snowbirdrose for the follows and favorites! They are greatly appreciated!<p>

So the company has made an appearance :3 just picture for me a little fat, baby Bombur being stuck on the ground and trying to sit up but a turtle on his back. I can't handle the overload of cute.

In this verse Fili and Kili are the cousins of Thorin, Frerin and Dís. As for how they got to Beorn's along with Bilbo, I will explain that later.

Knowing Grace: Thank you so much, I was a bit worried that he was out of character


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